


Mirabelle

by ForsythiaRising



Category: Fairy Tales & Related Fandoms, Original Work
Genre: F/F, Shipoween Treat, You decide!, is this creepy or is this sweet?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-11
Updated: 2020-10-11
Packaged: 2021-03-07 18:40:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 721
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26942269
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ForsythiaRising/pseuds/ForsythiaRising
Summary: There are two women, now, both standing. They don’t look exactly alike, not really, though they should - the same brown hair, dark eyes, with a common bone structure and height, both dressed in shades of green. But one of them has a sort of shimmer to her, a shine that isn’t quite beauty but is impossible to look away from, a glitter in her eye and a spark in her smile that’s a little different, a little special, a little compelling. At least, that’s what people say - it puts Mira on edge, when they tell her that. She doesn’t smile much.So it’s the other woman - all the same features made plain, a face no one would glance twice at - who grins, slow and knowing.
Relationships: Stolen Human Raised By Faeries/Changeling Raised By Humans
Comments: 12
Kudos: 31
Collections: Shipoween 2020 - The Halloween Ship Exchange!





	Mirabelle

**Author's Note:**

  * For [hearthouses](https://archiveofourown.org/users/hearthouses/gifts).



> I couldn't get this out of my head.
> 
> hearthouses: I want you to know that I am _wildly impressed_ by your epic exchange letter. I used pretty much none of the prompts there, but you highlighted fairy tale & similar stuffs enough that I think this may still be in your wheelhouse. I hope you enjoy it - I know I had a blast in the writing.

She’s in the dentist’s office waiting room when it happens. 

“Uh, we’re ready for you...Mirabelle?” 

“Oh, I go by—“

“—Mira.”

“—Belle.”

There are two women, now, both standing. They don’t look exactly alike, not really, though they should - the same brown hair, dark eyes, with a common bone structure and height, both dressed in shades of green. But one of them has a sort of shimmer to her, a shine that isn’t quite beauty but is impossible to look away from, a glitter in her eye and a spark in her smile that’s a little different, a little special, a little compelling. At least, that’s what people say - it puts Mira on edge, when they tell her that. She doesn’t smile much. 

So it’s the other woman - all the same features made plain, a face no one would glance twice at - who grins, slow and knowing. 

Mira shivers at the look. 

The woman who calls herself Belle snaps her fingers, and everything falls away. Mira feels a spike of something leap through her, a sudden frisson of heat and shock and strangeness that is not unfamiliar, but has never been this strong. 

It takes her a moment to realize that it isn’t just a feeling - the world really has changed around her. She is standing in an expanse of dark green, the kind of green that feels and smells like deep forest after a hard rain, ringed by a perfect circle wrought in small, well-placed stones.

“I’ve been looking for you,” Belle says, there in the circle with her. 

“Who—“ Mira starts, stutters, breathes in deep and wets her lips and tries again, “Who are you?” 

“Isn’t it obvious?” Belle says, and her voice is just as mundane as the rest of her, albeit smug, “I’m you.” 

“You’re...me?”

“Well, not exactly. But I could have been.” 

Mira doesn’t understand, but she does, but she always has, but she doesn’t at all. She asks, wary, “What do you want from me?” 

For the first time, Belle’s confidence fades. She shifts from foot to foot, fingers fidgeting at a lock of hair. “I _said_ ,” she says, more emphatically this time, “I’ve been looking for you.”

“What for?”

“For...uh, I thought we should...talk.” Belle says. Her eyes skitter away from Mira’s and then back towards them. “Since I found you, and all.” 

“...talk?”

“Yes, talk. Ugh, this was a stupid idea, I don’t know why I thought—”

“We can talk,” Mira says, because she wants to. Belle stops and looks at her with wide eyes, like for all this was her idea she doesn’t know what to do with that. So Mira continues, “You’re...magic, then?”

Belle snorts a laugh. “Me? Oh, no, no, not a lick of it.” 

“But then— but you just—”

“Oh, this?” Belle gestures to the not-quite-woods around them and then, with a flourish, produces a rose from nowhere at all, holds it out. Mira goes weak-kneed again, a white-hot thrill that starts in her belly and spreads everywhere, leaves her gasping. It’s a long moment before she can steady herself enough to take the offering; when she does, Belle laughs again. The sound is bright, but Belle’s gaze is dark and intense when she adds, “Oh, no. That’s all yours.”

She isn’t talking about the flower. 

“Oh.” Mira swallows, staring down at the red, red petals, “Yes, we should...talk, I think.” 

She looks up to find Belle smiling. It's a very ordinary smile, and Mira finds that she likes it. 

Belle says, “Later, then. I’ll meet you after, outside.”

“Wait, why can’t—?”

—and she’s back in the waiting room, riding out another zing of sensation alone except for a ring of institutional chairs and two bland paintings and a bored family of five and a dental hygienist who’s looking at her with impatience. 

“Mirabelle? Miss...Mirabelle Miller, that _is_ you, right?” 

“Uh, yeah,” Mira says, with a start. She shakes her head to clear it and follows the woman down the hall.

They make it five steps before the hygienist looks at Mira’s hands, then away, then back again. She cocks her head, perplexed. “Hey, where’d you get that?” 

Mira rolls the stem between her thumb and forefinger; feels the thorns press against them like a promise. 

“Oh,” she says, “nowhere special.”

And smiles.


End file.
